


Creator and Destroyer

by Rnd_Injustice



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Error (Undertale) - Freeform, Ink (Undertale) - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:35:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23426344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rnd_Injustice/pseuds/Rnd_Injustice
Relationships: Ink-Sans(Undertale) & Error-Sans (Undertale)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 58





	Creator and Destroyer

I let out a tired, sad sigh as I glanced around my Doodle Sphere, my home away from my many other homes. I saw, without really seeing, the floating bits of paper that drifted ever so slowly around my sphere without end, like the snowflakes inside a settling snowglobe (only, imagine if the snowglobe was as big as a planet and had nothing in it except endless white and the floating bits of paper). Each piece of paper, while also being the only source of colour in this place, was a whole new world, a different AU, that had been created by a Creator out there, somewhere. Some of the bits of paper were really, really old, others were brand new, some had so much depth and details to them while others had just the barest hints of an idea. Some of the papers had their lines rubbed out, redrawn, and rubbed out again many times over to the point that the page was forever marked with these lines from the past, and others had copied sections from other drifting papers and had added further to the original idea by giving it a new and interesting perspective.

I loved my drifting papers. Loved each and every one of them. Each paper was a new world I could explore, a new Creator I got to meet and interact with (to various, wildly different degrees). There were even sometimes the Creators would see me and be inspired, inviting me into their world to help further the plots of their stories, or help expand upon their worlds, adding depth and layers that crossed their AU’s with different ones. Few had been tempted into giving me full creative reign over their worlds with a silly little binding ink spell I tossed together one bored day, but regardless to what degree the Creators knew me and knew how much joy and happiness their creations brought me, I was grateful to each and every one of them.

And yet, here I was, sighing sadly as I came to a very disappointing conclusion.

I was sooooooo bored.

Bored, and sad.

I was bored because that’s what happens to immortals; you end up doing everything twice over at some point. I had even tried dying a few times and, meh. Death is overrated, I say. Everything I could have possibly dreamed up, the wild, the crazy, the impossible and implausible, I had already done. I was powerful enough to make just about anything I wanted to appear in this sphere of mine, yet what was a guy supposed to create when he had already created it just last week? 

See, this is why I loved the Creators. Without them, without their ideas, the new worlds they created, I would have lost myself to madness eons ago, drifting around in the Void and brain dead as just about everything else that was unfortunate to fall into the absolute epitome of Nothingness. I FEARED the Void, feared that nothingness in a way that shouldn’t have been possible for a soulless creature like me to feel fear without the aide on my colourful inks around my sash. I also feared being abandoned and forgotten by the Creators, but I at least knew that, while life existed out there, I would always find my way back to them….assuming I wasn’t floating in the Void, brian dead, of course.

I was also sad because one of the Creators I had been looking forward to visiting yet again was slowly losing the time they used to have for their floating pieces of paper. The worlds they were creating on them had hardly changed in the time I had last visited their worlds and interacted with their Readers (which, in itself, was such a rare and intensely enjoyable experience that had me wishing I made the binding spell last just a bit longer than the twenty-four hours I gave it). I was sad because I had come to the conclusion that visiting their worlds, talking to their Readers and gathering new inspiration and ideas to steam off this endless boredom today, was going to need to wait at least another year….maybe two.

That thought stung more than it should have, making me, a soulless creature, feel sadness at this moment.

Sad, and bored.

…..I hope that any Readers reading this weren’t bored like I was. I hope that you’re finding me sighing sadly somewhat interesting and if not, don’t worry, things will be picking up real soon.

I was so bored and sad that I didn’t even care that I was about to get attacked.

I let the blue strings grab my ankles and trip me up, making my skull hit painful on the floor (that wasn’t really a floor in this infinite, white space, but who wants to get into how physics and matter work in this non-space of mine), leaving me stunned and definitely in pain.

“Seems like you’re not ̵s͢-̶s̛o ͠impossible to sneak up on, ̛af҉-af-̛af-te҉r all.” Said an all too familiar, stuttering voice.

My legs were quickly bound together and lifted up into the air, leaving me dangling and getting an upside-down view of a pretty cocky Error walking towards me, strings around one hand that were leading up to the strings around my legs. 

Mister short, dark, and handsome had decided to pay me a visit, it seems.

“Hello Error. Fancy meeting you here.” I said, grinning because I knew that would upset him more.

His cocky smile (or frown to me and my current position) fell a bit at the corners. “S͘h-̕sh̷ut ̵up, Inkstain.”

He pulled his hand holding the strings back into a fist, which flipped me up the right way and brought me closer to him as the rest of his blue strings wound their way up my body and arms, further trapping me. I felt and heard my bones ache and groan as the strings tightened around me, threatening to break every bone I had. Error seemed awfully proud of himself as he managed to squeeze a grunt of pain from me.

“I’ll assume,” I managed to choke out, “that you’re not a version of Error that likes me. Unless you are, and you’re a kinky version of my boyfriend.”

I think he was a bit surprised that I wasn’t panicking and quaking in fear, which is probably why he then slammed me down on the floor a couple of times for good measure. 

Being immortal didn’t make getting smacked around hurt any less, I’ll add.

“Y͞-̵y͞ou̡’r҉e̴ not even g-g͞oi͞n̴g t͘o-̧t̨o ͢to ask how I found your ‘oh ̷s-͡so pre͟c͟i͝ou̸-͜ous҉’hiding place?” He hissed as I was returned back to my upright, constrained position.

I groaned weakly, waiting for my vision to stop showing me two of him. 

“...I also assumed I was going to get that speech from you eventually.” I couldn’t help but grin as I said what just popped into my head out loud, “You know what they say about ‘assume’, right?”

I got a glories second of Error’s stunned face before I was flipped up and over him and then smacked into the floor behind him, only to then be lifted up and smacked back on the other floor again in what I was sure made an arc over Error’s head as I sailed back and forward between the two floors. I don’t know how many times I was bounced between the two floors but it was more than enough to make me question just how cruel we are to percussion instruments.

“Feel likec̷r͟-͞c͡r͢a̧c͡k̸i̢ng ҉more ̵j͟o-jok̵ȩs?” He asked as I was left limp in his blue string’s grasp. “Cause if you do, ̨I̷-҉I can crack a f͝-few̕ other things ͠f-for ̢you.͜”

“How kind.” I groaned sarcastically, now over getting smacked around again. “What do you want, Error?”

He seemed to consider that for a moment before walking over to the nearest piece of paper drifting by. With his eyes on me, he plucked the paper and watched my reaction as he tore the paper up. It hurt seeing that, I won’t lie, but I knew that he hadn’t come here to ‘r̨e̶move̶ a͢l͢l͟ t͞he ̶f͘iļt͜hy̡ ̴g͝l͡-̡gļi̛t͞chȩs̛’ that was his normal stick.

No, if he wanted to do that, he would have killed me and wouldn’t be making destroying AU’s in front of me a sick, taunting show.

“I’ve been se-͠s͞e͡archi̶ng̵ ̨for this place for s̢-s̴o ̶long.” he said, plucking another page and ripping it slowly as he strolled around me, plucking and ripping page after page from the air around us. “T͏h͏e ̢s̵-͏s̕ou̕r̴c͘e of all the gl-͠gli͞tch҉es. Yo̡u and ̴y͝o-͟yo͡ur ͏creators. Out there? Be-͠b̕ey̶on̵d this place? Taking down whole w-worlds̸ is such a ch-̕ch̵o̸re͜.̢ The gl̨it҉che̡s̴ in their f͘i͜l͜-f̡il̡thy̶ ͘w͝-worl̶ds struggle so infur͜-̵uri͏atingly much and there’s al-͝a̕lm҉ost ̛a͞l-a͞l͠w̸a͟y̧s̡ ̶some sort of loose end that manages to escape t͏ha͞t I͟-I̕ th͢en͞ have t͟o waste t-ti͝m͠e ţr-̶tracki͟n̷g͏ down. But here? In ̧th͝-th̵i̛s̵ pl҉a̛c͞e̵?͞ ̶I͝It’s as easy as.͡.̨.̧r͞-̡r̨i͟p҉ping͝ pap͏e͜r͜.̵”

“And the point of this monologue is…?”

He stopped and gave me an angry, suspicious look. “Wh̕y͠ the͡ h-̢h̸ell do҉ ̧you͜ lo͘ok̵ so b̷ore̢d?”

“Oh, sorry.” I quickly arranged my face into what I hoped looked like indignant, righteous anger, “What’s the point of this monologue, Error?”

His suspicious glare lingered for a moment before the blue string retreated back into his fingertips, leaving me free to land on my feet (gracefully, I’ll add).

“You҉.” he spat, gesturing to me, “You’re the ͝p-poin̷t̶ ͏o̵f̧ this mo͘no͜lơģue͏, you̢ id-҉id̕i͞ot̛! D̶on̸’t̴ think I’m ͢not ͞wisȩ to̵ yo͡ur ţr-͘tric̕ks, Ink̢!͏”

Okay, now I was confused. “I don’t….underst-?”

“You ͡r-r͞eally̧ ͟ex̢pect͘ ͡m͡e̢ ̧to bȩl͡ie͢ve ͘t͢ha͝t I had͞ ̴j̨-͘j͜u̕s̷t҉ wo͞n, ͟that easily?!” He yelled at me, rudely interrupting my question, “That I͢ m҉anag͢e͘d̷ to sn͢-҉sn͜e͞a̧kinto your r͢e҉a̸l̛m,͏ grabbed your ͜l͡-̛le͠g̸s,̕ ̴and that was the en-̴e͠nd̶ ͟o̧f҉ ҉that͠?!?͘ ͟T̛ha̡t̶ you’re g-̸g͝o̶i҉n͡g to sit there and let me͡ ̛de͜-̢d͏es͢t͞r͢o̷y͞ y̛o͜ur̛ ̵p̕re-p͜r̷e̛cio̶u͜s worlds without ͡y-̧you̵ ͘ev͞e͘ņ s͞t-s̴t̛ru̷g͡gling to get out?!? Do you have any i͠-̡id͘ea̧ ho͠w̧ many times ҉I-I͠’͢v͝e ţri̵ed to killl y̵o͏u b͡u͘t ̵failed?!҉?̶!͠ ͡I KNOW wh-w̷ha̕t̷ it̷ ҉looks like w͢h̕-w̶h͞en ͘you ҉really fight me,͢ ͞w͡h̛-͞w̴h͏e͟n you’re fighting me and s͟tr̢uģgli͞n̢g l҉i͢k͠e ̶you͝r̴ lif̢e̸’͜s͟ o̢n͜ t͡h҉e͏ line,҉ ͏and ҉t҉h-th̷a̕t͟ ͜wa̴sn’͢t̶ ͘a͜n̕ythi̷n҉g͢ ͏lik̷ę ͞t̸hat҉!͝!”

“Damn, I forgot to struggle!” I cried out, snapping my finger. Man, I was off my game today!

I didn’t get much time to reflect on my failure before he launched into the next part of his speech, with all the flair and yelling that came when someone had been bottling up their emotions for too long (as well as all the glitching that was very much on-brand with his name).

“F-̕Fo͠r͞g͡ot̴ ͡to͠-͡!!͝ W͝h-who͟ ͠th͞e ͞h̕ell do y-͡y̨ou ̨t҉h-̡t̵h͘ink̵ y͢o̸u̶ are?̴!?͠ ‘F-͞Fo̶rgot͡ ̛t̵o҉ ̛s͝tru̸g̴gl̷e’,̧ l͜įke I’̧m̨ s-su͜ch a͝ non-t͢hr͜eat͞ ͞to-tơ ͠you!̸!” His blue strings were back and they were whipping through the air before I could blink, wrapping themselves around my limbs again. Once again, as I was lifted into the air, I felt my bones begin to crack as Error ‘Doc Oct’ his way up so he could grin cruelly on my eye level.

“YO̡U͜’RE͞ n͠-n̢ơt a͝ th-t͝hr̷e͢a̢t t̕o ̶ME͞, In-͠Ink! ̢Yo͢u’ve ͡n-n͝eve̢r ͢b̸e͞e̢n̡!̕ ͡Al̸l̴ ̢th̸-th͞os͜e ͞t͏imȩs we’ve͟ ͟f͜oug͏ht, ͏I a̡l̡w͝a͝ys͜ thought you were h-hold͝ing͟ b̶ack ̧a bi̸t͘, b͢u̸t ͜I ̛kn-͞k̛no̕w ̡the truth͢ ̴no̡w! ̕I’͠VE͢ al͘-͝a̸lrea͘d̨y W̷ON t̕h-this li͘ttl͝e war between u͝s-̧u͢s!͟ ̶I-̕I won ̨it̶ ͠a͘g͠e̛s ̴a͟g̡o̵! E͟v͘-e͞ver̷yt͠hin̷g w͠e do, th͜e f͜-͟f̢i̡ghts̶ an͡d ̛ba-b̶at̛tles̴ ͘b̧e̵tw͡e̵e͡n us̵, ͢i̕t͏-i̵t ͡c̕ha̴nges NƠTH͟I͡N̴G,͝ ̛a̢n-a̴nd̢ you must have ͘kn-̸kno͜w̡n ͢t͘hat̛ from the v͏ȩr͟y͞ be͝-̷beg͢in̶ni͢ng!͞ ͢Th͡-t̷h͟at’̷s̸ why̶yo̶u͘’r͢e ̵n͜-no̢t fi-͝f͢i̷gh̷t̷i͡ng͡ now! Th-̨that̢’̡s͝ why you’ve ̧n͞e͡-͢n̴e̸ve͞r͠ ̛bothered̷to-͠t͟o͞ g̵i̛v̢e ͘i̵t y-yo͢ur͢ ̷all and wh̡-wh͡y yo͜u̷’̸re ̴al͝-͠a͝l͢wa͟ys̷ holding back!̴ Wh̸-why͘ you’̧ve n͝e-̵n̕eve͡r ͢t͜ake͝n m͡e̡ se-ser̸i͞ous̵ly! Yǫu͟ co͞-͡could ha̴v̵e wiped the ̷fl̢-͏floo̶r w̶it̨h͜ m͢e ̕any ͜tim͝e y͢-̛y͡o͢u͜ ͜wa͘nted ͜to,̧ ͘b̴-b̵u̷t͏ yo̴u ̵haven’t be-bec͏a̛use you̴ ͠c̛a̸-̷can͘’t̛!͢”

“I...didn’t fight back because I knew I would win? So I’ve been losing all this time towards my eventual victory?” I tried to scratch my skull with how confused I was by this but couldn’t because of the strings so I quickly gave up on that, “You might need to ‘explain’ things to me, Error. Let’s try with whatever the hell you’re talking about.”

He pointed up. “S̷e͜e͟ t̨ha͝t̢?!̕?͢”

I looked up, seeing nothing but swirling papers above me. “Yeah?”

“Tell me what ̡y̶o͟u sȩe҉.͡”

“Papers.”

“N̶o͘, yo͜u ̢sm͏-sm͟artas͞s͢, ̵te-t̛e͠ll̢ ̛me ͜exa̷c̵tl͠y ̡w͢hat͘ ̨yo̷u̡’̧re ̴s-se̵ęin͜g.”

I sighed but went along with it as I kept watch over the papers above us. They swirled aimlessly and adrift on a breeze that had nothing to do with wind currents (of which there were none here). As I watched, new papers were popping into existence while others were crumbling away.

Pretty standard stuff, actually.

“I see paper swirling above us as new pieces of paper popping into existence and old papers crumble to dust.” I reported dully, still confused about where this was heading.

“A͞nd͠ ͝wh͡-wh͠a̶t̕ ͡d̢o yo͜u̷ nǫti͘ce abou͝t͞ th͠-t̵h̛e ͠r-r͢a͝te͝ ne̵w paper̷s a͘re͝ ̢be̸in͜g ͜cre͘a҉t̕e͢d̸ ͝wh-w̵hil̨e͡ ot͢h͟er papers̶ ̛cr-cr͜u̕m͘bl̨e͠?͠” he asked with a smug, already knowing tone.

I didn’t say anything but I knew I didn’t have to; he knew the answer as well as I did. I don’t know how he found out or what tipped him off, but I knew he was about to be unbearably smug. 

He’s cocky, confident voice got closer to me as I dropped my gaze to the ground below us rather than look at him. “N-no̴ ͘jo͡kes̡ about that? ͞D-̷don’̧t worry, I’͡v͝e͜ ̨g͘-g͡ot o͞n͞e-͠on͠e͝-͜on̵e̷. What I noticed i̛s th-t͘h͝at̢ fewer new ͜p̛a̛-pap̸ers̛ ̶are being ̴cre̵-̡cr͡eate̷d̸ up there.͏ Fewerr͘ ͡gl͟-̧gl-̛gli͢tc̵hes popping into e̢x̡i̵ste͟n̨c͝ę ͏out there. I noticed that ̢tha͞t f͞a͡r-fąr̸ mo͠ŗe worlds are͠ c̴ru̴m-çr͘u̢m͘b̡l͘ing away without my ̧a̢id-ai͏d.̧ What I no͜ticęd̛ was, ev͏-̢ev͠e̕n though there are ̷d͡a͘ys-̴d̡ąys ̷where there are more ̸n̡ew ̧w̵-̵wo̧r͞ļds͘ ̢being created ̶than oth͞-other͘s,͜ there are far m͜ore̢ worlds ̡c͘rum-̨cr͘umbļi̸n͏g ͢away these days on a r͟egul͏a͟r bas͘i͢ss. Every, single, d̷-̴day. ̢So I started t̕o͢ k͠ee̷p͠ t̡r͏-t͢racķ. ̨I counted all the̴ w̧orl̴ds̶, ̸and ̶y-͝y̵-you͠ ͏know what I disc̢ov̷ered?͏ ͏TThat, ̡with e̛v͞-̨e͢ve̡ry ye̵ar t͞hat ̢pas͡se̕s,̛ the ̨g͡l̨-g͏lit͞che͞s̡’͏ growth ̸rate̡ i͟s o͟ņ a st-̧s̨tea̛dfa͘st̶ decline while the ̷r̸a̶ţe-͢r͏at͝e͞ they crumble away is ̕inc̢reas͞i̧ng.̵ E̴very.̛ Si̵n-͏s̸in͢gl͡e̡. Year..͏ Y̛ơu͏’͟ŗe̵ ͟b͏eing ̕a͢b͝an͢-̕abandoned,͏ I̵nk.̡ ̢T̛he ͢C͘r͜eator͏s ͡aren’t creating much th-t͠h͜e͘se ͟days, a̢n̶d ͝they don’t care͠-̛care about you anymore. ̷T̛hey͡ certainly do͝n’̛t c̡ąr̵e abou̷t͞ t̶hes͠e w̛or̨lds they̢’r̡e ̨abandoing in͏ dŗo͝ves.̴ ͏I̴t’s j̛ust ͏a ͘matter of time ̧be̡fore all ̸ţh-̷thes͞e worlds crumble t͞o͏o, ̸isn’̨t̷ i̴t? So it doe̛s͝-dơe̶s̷n’t ̴matter if I do my job ͝or-o̷r ̴n̷o̡t a̡nymo̷r̛e.͡ I’ve͞ al-al͏-a̧lre̢ady wo̶n,̴ I̕n͟k, and̶ you’ve known that a̴l-al̡-a̴l̸l͏ ̧t͘hi͞s͝ ti̢m̧e, ̢haven’t you. ͘I̸ kno͜w̕ ͡you must ͜h-̸have n-not̕ice̴d̴ yo̸ur͞ ̛p̵r͡eci͞ou͡s ̷pape̶rs̛’ numbers getting sma͞ll͏er ͞wi͝th͘ the passing years, ̷seen͜ ho͢w ͝mu͜ch em̡-e͢mp̸t͜ie̡r͟ this place ̧h̢as͘ bee͡n ͠g̛e͜t͏-ge͞tt̸ing.̕ ͠And yet, you’ve kept trying t͝o ͢d̢ęny the ͡i͢n-̸i̴n̢evi̛ta-̨t͘a̸ble all this time, ̢haven’t yo͢u? Always f̷-͟f͢igḩt̕in͠g̶ me ͟a͡n̕d͟ t͝r-̛t͡r̶yin̷g ̕to̢ ͝‘͡p͢rotec̵t͝’̵ th̴e̸s̶e worlds, even ͘w͝h-̢whe͜n͝ ̨yo͘uknow they’ll ͘be̶ ̷aban-ab̕a̛n̡don̴e͜dtoo, someday. That means that, ev͘e̶ry-͢e͜ve͡ry͡t̵h̡ing̶ you’ve stood for and͏ ha͢ve ev͏e͡r-ev̧eŗ done has been f͠ǫr ̢n̴oth͏ing.͠ ̴Y͘o͡u a͡re noth-nothin͟g. N͢othi̷ng͏ ̷but the bi̕g̵-b͞ig͞gest̵ joke̸ ͘across ̡all͡ of͝ ͢existence ͡and ͘ti̛me̵-̸t̛i̴me͡ it͝se͏lf̧.”

I had a few moments to myself before he grabbed my chin and forced my face up to look him in the eyes, to see that cocky, confident smile to match his cocky, confident voice.

“W̧ell,̛ ̶I̶nk?͢ Wh-͡wh͝er̢e̵ are your jokes now?”

He seemed pleased when I didn’t say anything, happier still to let my face go as his blue strings dropped me, whereupon I crumpled onto the ground in a heap this time. I didn’t need to look up to know that me pushing myself slowly up into a hunched sitting position was feeding his more sadistic tendencies, making him grin even more before he turned his attention to the rest of the room instead.

“A-͠a̷ll͠o͜w̵ m̕e to put you out of̨ ̕y͞ou͟r ̸mis-m̛isęr͢y͡ ̧and to deliver my fi͝nal͡ pu͡nc̶hlin͘e̵.”

He and his blue strings went about tearing all the pieces of paper to shreds around him. Scraps of paper swirled around him as he grinned manically and began laughing, the cracks of his strings whipping about in the air, puncturing every other cackle.

I, meanwhile, was doing my best to not see the drifting, shredded paper filling the air. I was trying not to let them distract me as I instead thought about how I wanted to play this. I was calm and unconcerned as I weighed up all my choices, in spite of what was happening around me and to my beloved papers. I know that may surprise many of you who are reading these words, but really, I wasn’t at all bothered by the destruction of the papers.

I just sat there on the floor, calmly trying to decide what I wanted to do next.

See, I had been around the Creators long enough, seen and been a part of enough stories to recognise a ‘crossroad’ when I saw one. A key moment in a story that decided how the rest of it would play out. By my next actions and words, I could set Error and myself along the path of a big, epic battle, a heart-to-heart understanding between us, convince him to see my way of things and to give up on his quest for a ‘pure’ multi-verse, or even start us on the path that would lead, one day, to the two of us falling in love with each other. 

I could do all these things because, not only did I understand and have countless examples of similar narratives to draw upon across all of time and space, from stories long forgotten and stories yet to be told, but I also understood Error and the type of character he was. Different Creators envisioned him differently and no two creations of him were ever the same, but there were consistent patterns. Troupes, if you will. I knew Error more than he knew himself, and by my words and actions, I knew just what to say and do to get him to respond exactly how I wanted him too. I could easily enrage him so he would fight me instead, breakdown into tears to make him feel uncomfortable and confuse him. I even knew just what to say that would so break him and shatter his whole self-concept that he would have to evaluate his whole entire being, leaving him a shell of a skeleton for a time until denial saved his mind.

People tend not to like it when you take their core beliefs and prove, without a doubt, that everything they ever believed in was a lie.

...Hmmm…..what to do…….What did I feel like doing?.....

…………………………………………………………………..…...Why don’t I just talk to him? As open and as honest as I’ll ever be?

…...It would certainly be the first in a very long while……

“....You’re right, Error.” I told him, looking up to see him amidst his war against paper.

When he didn’t turn around or make any indication that he heard me, I tried again. “Hey Error! I said you’re right!”

The stings in the air came to a stop in mid-air (many wrapped around soon to be destroyed papers) as he turned to look back at me, confused. “I’m right?”

I nodded.

His eyes narrowed, “W̨h-w̨h͟a̧t ̷game are y͘ou pl͟ann͢i̶n̶g̴ ͢n̵ow,͞ p̸-pęst͘?”

“No games, Error.” I made myself comfortable on the floor as I looked back up to his dumbfounded expression. “This is me not playing any sort of game with you and just me talking to you as openly and as plainly as I never have before.”

I got more stunned silence from him before that enraged expression came back. 

“Y̧-͝you͘ t̷h͞i̷n͘k̨ ̧I ̕won̶’͠t de-d͡es͡t̴ro͜y͞ y̷o͢u̧r ̸p̧rȩciou͟s͞ ͝pap̸e̛rs be̴-b̢ec̶au͏se you’̵re pu̴l͞-͞pulling͝ som͜e ͡w̴ęak-͞ass̶ ͞r͘ęv̕ers̢ȩ ps-͝p͢sy̴chol͏o̕g͘y͝?!͡?̶”

“No,” I said calmly and honestly, not at all bothered by all the destruction around me. “You can go ahead and keep doing that if you want. I’m not going to stop you.”

I think I broke him for a bit there. His eyes were filled with static and ‘error’ signs before his brain came back online with all that rage from before.

“I̕’̷M GO-GO̵I̡N͝G TO̡ ̵RI̴P-RIP-R͟I͡P-̢R̴I̡P ͘A̸N͘D͠ ̡TE͠AR͢ ͟E̶V͠E̵RY ͝SI̵N-SI͝N-͡SIN͞G͡LE P̧I͞E̛CE͡ OF ͢P̕APE̢R̛ IN-I̶N ̧TH͜I҉S ͝P̨L̨-̷PLACE̕,̢ ̛IN͢K!!͡ ̕R̨IGH̛T̸ ̴D̨OWN͠-͘DO̧W̢N TO ̴T͢HEIR VER̵Y M̕O͘LE̷CU͟L͘ES!̕!̴”

“That would make a great metal song, but it’s not going to make me stop you.”

His eye twitched for a bit before he flew off into a rage, ripping and tearing until he was done (or, at least until his anger had burned off a bit.) I, on the other hand, patiently watched him and made no move to stop him.

I knew he’d wanted to understand why I wasn’t stopping him more than he actually wanted to destroy all the AU’s in the place. I knew he didn’t believe me, I knew he was expecting me to stop him. He’d go about his little cleansing and when, after a while, I didn’t interfere with that, he’d probably rip even more paper while looking back to see what I was doing. His utter confusion would only grow more baffled when he saw me just sitting here, doing nothing. _‘Why is he just sitting?!?’_ He’d probably think, ‘ _Why isn’t he stopping me?!?’_. Then paranoia and a firm disbelief in the sincerity of my words would kick in and he’d go back to ripping papers with renewed anger and intensity. However, when that anger died down again, when half the room was empty except the flakes of what was once whole AU’s, he’d again be left with nothing but his confusion.

That would be when he would come back to me, proving my point about where his priorities really lay if his end goal was only to see all the AU’s destroyed.

Like I called it, Error did just that, going through his bursts of anger and destruction before looking back at me with confusion clear in his eyes, only to then become enraged once again and turning his attention to ripping up even more papers. He did this two times before his anger was completely spent, leaving him breathing heavily amidst swirls of ripped paper and dust particles as his blue strings lay limp on the ground next to him. I waited for a bit more as he took a moment to calm himself before he resumed his conversation with me.

“Why aren’t you s̕t-̶st͟op̴p̛i̧ng me?” He asked in a low voice.

“Because, as I said, Error, you’re right about everything.” 

He turned around to face me as I explained, “I’ve always known that you were going to win this little war between us. I never had a chance of winning it. As you said, I noticed the decaying rate of new worlds being born and older worlds dying off many years ago. I knew that, as sure as universes die out eventually, I was going to lose and every AU was going to end one day, leaving you victorious and the main world… ‘pure’, to use your word. I’ve known that since….I don’t want to say as soon as I became this version of myself….but it wasn’t that long after I got my powers and Broomy and my connection with the Creators themselves.”

Error’s mouth was open a little but he closed it when his distrust and anger for me came back. “If you’ve always known, if-i̕f͡ yo͜u always knew you were nev-̕nęv̸e͢r g͏oi͠n͜g͡ ţo win,͟ ͢then why have you a͢l-always fought so hard ag͟a̵ins͠t ̨me until today?͟”

I shrugged, “Why does anyone do anything when nothing lasts forever?” I could see he was struggling to come up with an answer for that, so I gave him mine. “Sheer boredom, Error. We do things to occupy our time and that brings us joy. Some do things for themselves, others like doing things that will make those who come after us live in a better world and to be better people, but in the end, it’s just doing whatever you want with the time you have. As simple as that.”

“So ̵th̸a̡t’s it.” He said, calling back his blue strings as he walked on over to me. “Do̴-͜d͜oi͡ng̴ things just because you’re bo̷r̕ed̸. Huh…̷.̧.͜I̛-I ͘should ̶h͏ave gu̷es͢s̢ed̡ that yo̵u̷r͜-y͏o͞ur ̶motivation to be an ͠abs͟olute ͘t͟h-t͟h̵ǫrn̢ in my side was b̡ecause ͠you w̡ȩr̛e ̡bor̨ed͝.”

I laughed, “Isn’t it amazing that when we hear the perfect truth how everything clicks and it all suddenly makes sense?”

He ignored me as he came to a stop some distance away from me. “Doe̴sn’t ͟ex-e͜xp͞l͞ain why you’ve ever b-b̷o̷th͠e͠r to look after these ͝w͞orlds in t̡he̸ first place or͏ w̸hy̸ you’re so okay̷ wit̛h me̡ d̕es̕t̵royi̵ng̵ them͝ ̸n̢-̴now.”

“Do you really think you’re destroying worlds, Error?” I asked back.

That got him. “W̷h͝a- of͏-̶of ̵c͏ou̢r͡s͢e͟,͏ ͢I͏ am̡.̶ T͟h̢i͞s is̷ ̢y͟ou͜r-̸yo̷ur s͡t̷ų-stupi̶d w̨orld ͞aft̕e̶r̶ ̷all̢. Th̨e̶ p͡l̵ace͜ ͝a̡l̷l̷ t̕h͏e̶ filth̛y͠ gl-̢gl͘i̛tches com̛e f͞r͜o̴m.͡ Do̴ y-͟you͜ have any idea ̶h-͡how̷ h-͢ha͡r͟d̵ iis was for me to find this place? ͘To ̸find ͞you-̴y͜o̧u,̴ ̴s͜a̸d a̡n̛d͘ m̸o̸pin̷g a̵ro͟und͘? ̧Of͞ ͏c̕ơurse, t̡his͘ is-is͟ th̵e̸ ri̧ght ͞pl͜ace. It’͟s͠ filled with alll th-̢t͘h͝e̡ mi̕st͜a̷kes͝ I̛ ͟need to g̶et r̴id͜ o͜f.”

“......None of this is real, Error.” I said, quietly.

He scoffed. “S-s-̡sure.͜ ͟It’̸s a̛ll j͠ust͏ a bad͘ dr̨eam͘. ̶Yo̶u k-k̷eep l͏i͘viņg͏ in de̡n̷i̸al̷ ̵a͡nd p͠re-̕p͘re-͞p̨r̸etend͘in͏g͡that this little lapse ̡in̵ y͏ou͢r̢ ͟dut͏i͏es̸ t̸o͢-to͟ ̢‘̶pr͜otect’͝ these worthless worlds ne̡v͢-ne̡ve͝r h͝a̕pp̷en͡ed.͏”

“It’s not me who’s in denial, Error.” I got to my feet, ignoring how Error took a step back, and instead went over to the closest paper drifting by. Grabbing it, I turned back to face him.

“Every single piece of paper in this place is symbolic of a Creator’s work out there.” I tore up the paper, “Out there, a Creator just gave up on this AU and got rid of everything they had been working on for it. My ripping of this paper didn’t cause that; it was gonna happen regardless of what I did. In fact, you could say that my hand was guided to this paper for that reason.”

Error rolled his eyes. “I͟f͏-͠i͘f you really think I’m goin͠g tǫ fall͜-fa̕ll ͜for that then you’re even ͡du͏mb-͜d͝um͘ber͢ than I͜’͝v͢e been taking you ͞f̛or͢-̵fo̕r. I͡ ca̸n ̛s͝ense wh-w̕h͡ere gl͡i̢t̴ch̸e̡s ͝ar̕e ̧an̨d ͞wḩen͜ they d̢ie̢, and I͞-I͏ ca̢n tel͢l̢ tha͟t you ̕jus̕t͢ d͏es̨t͜r̢oyed ̢o̕ne-on̶e ͠f̛ǫr me̢.”

“You should know better than to get correlation confused with causation. Just because you rip papers here doesn’t mean you’re the cause of AU’s dying out there. Like I said, this is all symbolic. None of this is really happening.”

He folded his arms and gave me a condescending smile. “Uh-huh,̴ ̛sure͠ ̛I̛n̛k̴y.”

I sighed, growing frustrated with him. “This goes back to what I was saying about this all being ‘real’.” I gestured to him, “This idea that you and I are really talking in this huge, empty white space with bits of paper floating around us. We’re not, Error. None of this is real. _We’re_ not real. We’re just words on a screen _made_ real by a Reader’s imagination.”

His smile slipped as a bit of fear entered his eyes. 

“Yo͟u’re wron͘g̷.” he said, firmly.

“Isn’t it amazing that when we hear the perfect truth how everything clicks and it all suddenly makes sense?” I took a step towards him. “Did you feel that click just then, Error? I think you did.”

He took another step back. 

“Yơu’̵v͝e ̧co͠m-c͞om-͞c̛omp̡l̸e͠tely lo̡st i͡t.” He said in hushed, horrified awe.

I didn’t even realise I was taking steps towards him as I rebutted, “Then you try being the only one who can see the words on the screen and the lines on the page. Feel free to switch places with me and tell me if you know what or even care what’s real anymore.”

“Th̢i͡s͝ is f-̵f̢-̨f͏uckin̶g rea̶l,̶ ̨Ink̴!” He snapped, still backing away from me. “You̶ ̧can’̨t̷ j͝-jus̷t ͝p̨r̕e͞t͜en̸d yo̵u̢ know͜ th͠i͠ngş ̨tha̸t I͟ don͏’͜t͠!”

“Then let me _show you_! Let me take you to the Readers, to the people who are giving us voices right now when we have none! We can talk to them together! Let me strip away everything until all you can see are the words on the page too! I can even take you to talk to the Creator who’s putting all these words into our mouths right now!”

“I͜’m ͡n̛o͜t a fuc̛k͜ing ̡f̢i̴g̶-figmęnt̴ of̕ s̷o̷m͝e ͢f̕-͜f-fuc͝king ͢çrea̸to̶r̴!͜”

“You’re nothing but figments of imagination, Error! We both are! We’re both nothing but abstract concepts personified!”

“I̡-I’͏m r͠ea͏l!” He stuttered as true fear made his whole form glitch about while he kept backing away from me, “I-I’͝m̨ ̴a͢liv̛e!͞ ̡Yo͏u can’͡t͡ ̢f̡o̕ol̕ ̛m̶e, ͞I̢nk! ͘I-͢I ͝h̶av͏e͞ t͜ho͞ughts ͞an̴d ̕th̴a͞t̴ makes mę ̨r̨eal!̧”

“What thoughts?!? You think a computer being programmed to type out ‘I am alive’ is alive because of that?!? Everything you’re ‘thinking’ was placed there by the Creator of this world! This AU!”

“W̴E’͜R̛E ̧NǪT ĮN ̛A͝ F-F͜UC͏KING AU̡!!”

“We are though! This whole world is just some Creator’s take on the original idea of what the Doodle Sphere would be like! What we would be like! _We’re_ one of the floating pieces of paper out there! In the real Doodle Sphere, which in itself is an AU!”

“ **N̵̶̢͟O̸̸̶͡!̷͘͡͝!̴̧̕** ”

Error turned and ran for it. He didn’t run far before he summoned his blue strings back and was tearing a portal through whatever means he ended up using to get here in the place he shouldn’t have been able to in the first place.

Leaving me alone as I watched him and the portal disappear.

Not that I blamed him though.

I sometimes wished I could run away from this, from knowing what I did, but I can’t so….

I sighed sadly as I looked around, seeing all the paper that Error had destroyed start to fix themselves, almost as if Error destroying them hadn’t been some big deal after all (surprise, surprise). Already, the once destroyed papers were up in the air, joining the others as they went about swirling in the air in this huge snowglobe of mine….

I began recognising the traits of a world that was getting its ‘ending’ all around me, of that ‘feeling’ one got when you knew a story was wrapping up. Not a chapter’s ending, mind you, but the whole story. Chapter endings left you knowing what was sort of coming next. Story ends felt different in that they made you want more but without knowing what ‘more’ was. Just….more. More words, more plot, more twists.

More.

But a good story ending never gave more. They found a good place to stop and that’s where they stayed.

….It felt like there was a bit left to this story now. I could tell we hadn’t reached the end of this just yet.

Just a bit more left now, I say.

….Hmmmm,......maybe more reflection?

Well, my mind went straight back to Error, wherever he was right now. This version of him, anyway. The version of him in this story. The version that was going to remain locked in this world for all of existence while I could move on and remember all of this.

….I don’t know if in this moment I pitted Error or envied him.

It was in our natures to be as we were, after all.

It was in Error’s nature, no matter the form he took, to be unable to comprehend the truth, while it was in mine to never want to stop trying to explain it to him. I think it was because he spent so much of his time hunting down entire worlds, delving into the vastness that was our current multiverse, that the idea that there was something even more out there, something that dwarfed the seemingly near-infinite that he knew, was always going to be too much for him. Me? I was just crazy enough to accept all of that and yet not sane enough to be bothered by it like a normal person should be. From where I stood, I couldn’t understand why anyone WOULDN’T want to know just how small and insignificant they truly were. How nothing mattered in the grand scheme of things and that there was no point to anything in the end. It made caring about anything in particular something I never needed to bother with, freeing me to like things because they brought me joy but easily forgotten when I grew bored of them.

I like to think I found the perfect balance, but I sometimes worried that I was missing out on things other people found comfort in. Like knowing their ‘place’ in the world or finding ‘comfort’ in the arms of family and loved ones. Stuff that, despite what he claims, I know Error found comfort in too.

How else do you explain his obsession with Blue?

Regardless, it was in both our natures to keep chasing the other, to be opposites and to want different, impossible outcomes. He wanted all of the AU’s to ceast, the Creators to stop creating, and for the world to go back to a simpler, easier time. Where all these strange rules, different interpretations, unexpected ‘snowflake’ creations add to the mad mess that was the AU worlds. I, on the other hand, loved the mad mess. I loved every single scrap of it, even what other Creators mocked and called ‘Bad Oc’s. Black and red were good colours together! I wanted nothing more than Creators to never stop creating and yet….

I knew that they would stop. One day. It was just the nature of things…...hmmm….

….Most Creators assumed the nature of Error and myself. They like to think of me as being the Protector of their creations, the Guardian of the AU’s, and one who gives and inspires creativity. Error was my opposite, the Destroy of AU’s and Puppet Master (if he was in a kinky mood), the thing that would destroy their worlds and leave their creations floating in the nothingness he left behind. 

Destroyer and Creator, they called us.

They were so close to the truth, but just slightly off a bit.

Error wasn’t the ‘destroyer’ of worlds; his power was always invited in by Creators. If a Creator didn’t want to have Error destroy their worlds then their worlds were safe from him. They were still safe even if they _did_ invite him in because he was there to serve _their_ purpose and design. Even as Error went about destroying all that he could, he was doing so on because that’s what the Creator of that world had wanted from his character all along. 

Making him a source of inspiration and creativity.

I, meanwhile, could destroy worlds as easily as Error could. The paper I had ripped was still ripped while that Creator wasn’t any closer to coming back to their abandoned project. I hadn’t been lying when I told Error that the paper was symbolic but still a visual representation of someone giving up on ideas out there in the Creator's and Readers’ world. The papers around me, still swirling far above my head, were still disappearing in larger numbers than they were appearing daily as interest in this fandom continued to dwindle. If I was creativity, if creativity was the fuel that sparked new ideas and kept them going, then the lack of creativity and inspiration running dry was the reason so many stories and drawings and songs and other really cool things were placed away in dark places, to ‘be completed’ on another day that would never come.

Making me a destroyer of worlds.

In truth, our true natures were simpler than titles. Far simpler than the names Error and Ink carried that came with so much back story, lore, rules, interpretations, different iterations and versions of ourselves across numerous stories and Creators. We were more powerful than any Creator and yet utterly dependent on them. We were two different laws of reality that existed throughout all of time and space, given voice and character traits in this fandom and throughout many, many other stories told by all cultures, races, and eras.

We were Order and Chaos. Nothing, nothing less.

…….And Order always wins in the end, 

even as there’s no one else around to see it.


End file.
